Forces of Nature
by JDoe012998
Summary: Belle isn't like the rest of Paris. Maybe that's what drew Clopin to her to begin with.  But then, sometimes things are just meant to be. Rated T for language and because... I dunno.  I wanna rate it T.  R&R plz.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A peice I did whilst obsessed with Hunchback of Notre Dame. Mostly Clopin. It is not a one-shot, and I have more written, but I thought I'd see how people reacted to the OCness first. On that note, when I wrote this, I hadn't seen Beauty and the Beast in years, since I was quite small, and was working Belle's character from memory, so no flames. Also (I'm almost done, really) this is alternate universe, which means that Belle will end up staying in Paris with our Gypsy instead of goin to hang out with Mr. Beast and all the other 'Little People.'**

There she was again. That girl with the book. He'd watched her. It was the same, every day; from her house out across the river, she'd come into town. Then, to the bakery, get the day's bread. To the grocer and the butcher, pick up supper. And then the bookstore. She stopped a few minutes in front of his little caravan to listen to his stories and give the underfed children a loaf of bread or an apple, whatever she could spare. Once or twice, when he returned from finding himself something to eat, there would be a coin or two tucked neatly away on the shelf that was his stage, and, sure enough, there would be the girl, reading her way toward the book shop.

She paused, as usual, across the street from him, watching as he conversed with his puppets, and generally made a fool of himself. He could see, just looking at her, that she had a spot of gypsy blood in her. Not much. Her grandmother, perhaps. But there it was.

She waited for his tirade to come to an end, and then approached, handing a loaf of fresh bread to one of the children, and then making her way up to his window.

"You do good things for those little brats." He said, nodding to the kids, who were carefully splitting the loaf into pieces for each of them.

"They need it. We all need a little brightness in our day." Her voice was lilting, positively musical, like the bells of Notre Dame. "That's why I want to thank you. You give them something to look forward to, day after day. It's a great thing you do." She reached into the pocket of her apron, and extracted two gold coins, which she placed on the window ledge.

"Mademoiselle, I cannot take this from you…" He began.

She laughed. Bells again. "If you want to give it back you'll have to catch me." And with that she darted off into the crowd, positively dancing her way between the people.

She was disappointed to see the gypsy man missing from his caravan the following morning. She continued on to the book shop, and positively beamed at the sight of the young man leaning against the wall.

"Good morning." She grinned.

He reached out to tap her shoulder, and smirked. "I caught you."

She laughed. "So you did. The name's Belle, by the way."

"Clopin. Gypsy, wanderer, puppeteer, at your service." He bowed dramatically, his dark hair nearly brushing the ground.

"How did you know I'd come here?"

"I see things."

"You watched me." It wasn't a question.

"A bit perhaps. But only so I could return these." He held out the two gold pieces from the day before. Her laughter danced again through the air.

"I don't need it back, Clopin. Really, keep it. Use it for your family. My father and I have too much already."

"Well, thank you, mademoiselle." He bowed again. "I hope I can return the favor, one day. Now, if you'll excuse me," He glanced back toward his caravan, "I do believe the crowds have gathered." And with that he slipped off toward the square.

Belle entered the book shop, and found the man who owned it, Peter, watching her warily.

"Something wrong?" She asked, handing him the book she'd taken the day before.

"You'll stay away from gypsies if you know what's good for you. Especially that one. They're con men and tricksters, and honor means nothing."

She just smiled, and made her way over to the shelf to pick up a book at random. "I think you might be wrong. About that honor bit, anyway."

"Maybe I am, but the Court thinks the same way. And you know who that is, don't you?"

"Not really."

"They say he's the king of the gypsies, here in Paris. Every one of them answers to him in the end. If you're going to hang around with gypsies, as far as the law is concerned, he's the last one to get mixed up with."

"He's… But he's no older than I am! He's barely more than a boy."

"I don't make the politics. I just report them. And he's the one they answer to."

"Well, thank you for the warning. I think, though, I'll manage alright."

"When Frollo comes after you, don't say I didn't warn you."

She nodded, placed a coin on the table, and stepped back outside.

**A/N: REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! PLEASE! Also, right now I'm bored out of my mind, so if you have a story request, please message me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ohmygod I'm so sorry anyone and everyone who was waiting on an update! Not a day went by that I didn't wanna post this, but my laptop (and all my documents) went to the shop like 3 days after I posted the first chapter! Please don't hate me!**

**Anyway, I think this may be all I post. I have the start of another chapter all done, but I may just delete it, so I think she's complete after this. I may come back to it, though, so keep an eye out just in case, yeah?**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Y'all made my day! 3**

"Thank you very much, Belle, for your help." The Archdeacon's hand was warm on Belle's shoulder as they stood in the doorway of Notre Dame.

"It's no trouble, sir. Anytime you need a hand, just say the word."

"There aren't enough like you. Give your father my best, won't you?"

"Of course." She opened her mouth to continue, but a familiar flash off purple and yellow caught her eye before she could. "Good afternoon, sir." She was halfway down the steps when the final word left her lips.

The Archdeacon smiled after her. Of course, if anyone in the city was going to help the King of the Gypsies, it would be Belle.

By the time she caught up to Clopin and the soldiers perusing him, the gypsy had been pinned between the guards and a stone wall, one of the uniformed men tying his hands securely behind his back.

"Stop it!" She grabbed the arm of the man tying Clopin's hands. "Please, let my brother go. He doesn't mean any harm, really!"

A soldier laughed. "You two couldn't be distant cousins!"

"You're wrong," Shouldering the one with the rope out of the way, she began to unbind his hands. "He's my adoptive brother. We found him on the street when I was just little, in another town. My mother, God rest her, insisted we take him in. And so we have. I don't know what it is he's done, but I'm sure he didn't mean it. He was coming to help me in my work at the Cathedral. I light the candles. Isn't that right?" She looked to the gypsy.

"A-absolutely! I was just going to help her with that when you men so rudely interrupted."

"The Archdeacon will hear of this." Belle continued. "To think… Soldiers hunting a humble servant of God…" She took Clopin's hand to lead him away, but the first soldier, the one who had tied her 'brother's' hands grabbed her shoulder.

"That's the worst lie I've ever heard! Everyone in Paris knows this lad, and everyone in Paris knows you, and we all know you and your crazy father live alone!"

Instead of arguing the 'crazy' point, Belle winked at him, and tossed a "You're right!" over her shoulder as she and Clopin took off running toward Notre Dame.

"Claim sanctuary. Now!" She panted, leaning against a stone pillar.

"Sanctuary. You…" A pause while he figured out exactly what he meant to say. "You lied… To save a gypsy."

"Yes, I guess I did."

"But people… People like you just don't _do_ things like that."

"Well, I guess _I_ do, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, clearly. But… why would you do that? I mean… I'm a gypsy! I get thrown in jail just for breathing, and then I find a way out and go on with my life. No one ever... Helps."

"Well, what did you do?"

"Stole an apple for a boy."

"Then I'm absolutely glad I spoke up. You shouldn't be persecuted for doing something _right_ after all."

"Did you miss the part where I _stole_ an apple?"

Belle shook her head. "No. But you still did a good thing, didn't you? You gave food to a hungry child. That's the most basic kindness I can think of."

Clopin tilted his head a little to the side, and swept his eyes over her person. "You're not like the other people."

Soft steps echoed through the hall, and the Archdeacon appeared on the stairs from the bell tower. "She _isn't_ like others, is she?"

"I hope not, sir." Belle stated.

He smiled. "Clopin, King of the Gypsies."

"At your service." Clopin bowed.

"So, my child, what have you gotten into this time?"

"A bit of thievery and other good-doing."

"And was it worth it?"

Clopin nodded. "Absolutely."

"Good. In that case, I'll leave you to it." He had almost disappeared from view when he turned back to call, "Oh, and Belle?"

"Yes sir?"

"Frollo sent word that he wouldn't be by today, so would you take Quasimodo his dinner for me? I have a sermon to preach."

Belle smiled. "Of course." Once the Archdeacon was out of sight, she turned to Clopin. "Would you like to come with me? I doubt you've ever seen the view from the top of Notre Dame."

"Certainly, milady." He offered a shallow bow, and the two made their way out to the kitchens, where food was prepared for the monks and clergymen.

"So, who, may I ask, is Quasimodo?" Clopin wondered as Belle went about preparing a basket of bread and cheese and fruit.

"He's the bell ringer. He's Judge Frollo's charge, but… Well, you'll understand when you see him, why he lives up there all alone. I think he's just a few years younger than we are – assuming you're the age I think you are."

"How old do you think I am?" He leaned against a wall, trying to ignore the abundance of food around him, and the growing hollowness in his stomach.

"Fifteen-ish, I should think. I'm fifteen, anyway, and you don't seem much older than I am."

Clopin smirked. "Seventeen, or thereabouts. Honestly, I couldn't say for sure. Where I come from, you're a child, a man, or an old man."

"Well, I was close, anyway. I think Quasi is around ten, now. Frollo would know for certain."

"I have no intention of asking that arse – pardon my French – anything unless it's how to get off his wanted list." There was a deep-rooted hatred when he talked about the Judge, Belle noted.

She finished filling the basket, and after a minute's deliberation, grabbed a small swatch of cloth and wrapped up a small loaf of bread, a chunk of cheese, and an apple. This, she proceeded to thrust into the gypsy's questioning hands. "You're too skinny for a boy your age. Eat something while you have the chance."

She didn't linger to see his incredulous smile, but started toward the stairs with the gypsy in tow.

They made their way up the stairs in silence, all several flights, to the small apartment in the tower.

"Quasi?" Belle called into the seemingly roofless room. "Quasimodo?"

There was a sound from above, and then a small, misshapen boy landed before them from the rafters.

"Belle." His smile dropped when he saw Clopin, who was currently trying not to stare too hard. "You're the gypsy from the square," Quasi stated, "You sing at the Festival of Fools."

Per his usual routine, he bowed low. "Clopin Trouillefou. A pleasure to meet you, Quasimodo."

"P-pleasure." Quasi stuttered.

"Frollo was tied up, so we brought you up a lunch." Belle smiled softly, tousling the boy's red hair as she made her way to the table. She lifted one of the new models and turned it in her hand. "Quasi, these are beautiful! Clopin, come look, there's one of you."

The gypsy practically danced to the table, and picked up the small, beautifully painted figure. "Why, they're absolutely lovely! You make all these, Quasi?"

"Yes." The boy smiled, now that it was clear Clopin had no intention of laughing at his appearance. He ambled over to pick up one of the people, proof that he knew the faces of the townsfolk better than they knew themselves. "It's all there is to do up here, except for ring the bells and polish the bells and help the Archdeacon."

"I thought Frollo didn't like you leaving the tower." Belle noted, going out onto the sunny balcony and spreading a cloth over the flagstone floor. On this she began to lay out their lunch.

"He doesn't. But sometimes, like today, when he can't come, the Archdeacon lets me down to the kitchen for my meals."

"I see. Speaking of food, tuck in, everybody!" She sat down, cross-legged, on one edge of the cloth, and Quasi and Clopin followed suit.

"You've got a good view from up here, Quasi." Clopin observed,

"Not when it's all you see. I could map Paris with my eyes closed, but I've never set foot on its streets."

"Frollo doesn't let Quasi out and about… well, ever. Personally, I think he's being overdramatic. Quasi's a sweet boy – he could make plenty of friends, I know. And people aren't… _Quite_ as evil as Frollo makes us out to be."

"Well, you'll just have to come to the festival this year!" Clopin declared. "A friend of mine is a friend of the gypsies' – You'd be in good hands."

"You should, Quasi! Frollo goes every year – he can't object to you going just the once!" Belle agreed.

"Oh- no. I couldn't."

"You don't have to be afraid, Quasi," Belle insisted, placing a hand on the boy's arm. "You'd have loads of people looking out for you. Me, and Clopin, and all the gypsies, and Frollo too, I'd guess. Well, think on it. You'd have fun."

They lapsed into talk of smaller things – how Clopin had come to be in Notre Dame, Belle's plans to find other young people to help about the town, and so on. After about an hour, in which time they finished their meal, and Quasi gave Clopin a quick tour or the uppermost cathedral, Belle deemed it safe for Clopin on the streets, and about time for her to get home.

"Nice lad." Clopin mused on the stairs.

"Isn't he? Just Frollo's toy, that's all he is. A poor, broken toy. He's absolutely terrified of the bastard, I know. I don't know why Frollo keeps him locked up here, when I know he could likely go and live with your people, or even come to my home. Still, we do what we can, don't we?"

"So we do." After a moment, "So why do _you_ hate the Judge?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, I hate him because he sets my people on fire regularly. What about you?"

"The same reason. There's no good reason for him to execute half the people he does, gypsy or otherwise. He lies to himself, tells himself it's all for the good of the people, by the hand of God, but if I know our Lord, and I do, that miserable arse will burn."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks so."

"Wait." She stopped on the stairs, catching his wrist in her hand. "Come with me. You need to see something."

Belle led Clopin up the many flights of stairs, to the topmost floor of Notre Dame, and then, shamelessly knotting her skirt, showed him how to climb up so that they sat atop the roof on the highest point in Paris.

"Look at that, Clopin. Just… Look at it. Tell me what you see."

"Paris, the Seine, children going hungry in the streets, my people begging for scraps, people watching their lives go by without the means to enjoy it."

Belle startled a little. "Exactly. But do you know what else I see?"

"What?"

"The beginning of the end. For Frollo. For the way we've been treated all this time."

"What do you mean?"

"See the baker down there?" she pointed, "And the butcher too. They won't sell to soldiers, unless they pay twice as much as someone like me. The Brown family, over there, they've completely emptied their cellar, so if they need to, they can hide half the poor folk in Paris down there."

"Save them from a raid, maybe." Clopin mused.

"Or," Belle looked at him meaningfully, "Prepare them for a revolt. People are tired, Clopin. So very, very tired. They can't go on like this. So, someday very soon, you'll find all of us out there in front of the Palace of Justice, man and woman, parent and child, Frenchman and Gypsy, all of us brothers and sisters in arms. And that damnable place and the people who subscribe to its lies _will_ burn, in this life, _and_ the next."

"And has all this been planned? When we poor heathens will rise up against the Powers That Be?"

She smiled suddenly. "No. But when the time comes, you'll know. I promise you that. You'll feel it, just like we all will." She stood, and made sure the knot that held her skirts up to just above her knees was tight, and then made her way to the edge of the roof. "And with that, my dear King of Gypsies, I leave you. Tell your people, too. The time is coming to start again. And we all need to be ready, in our own way. Be careful climbing down."

And with that, the girl – no. He was coming to realize, she was not a girl; she was a force of nature – that was Belle vanished over the edge. Clopin scrambled over not a second later, to see her easily ambling her way down the side of the Cathedral.

**A/N: So? Heh? Heh? I worked the title in and everything! :) Reviews are my one true love: please leave me one. Or more. More is good too.**

**I hope the ending was good. As I said, I intended to continue, but it didn't work out well. Still, I think it feels final enough. Any thoughts?**


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